


bruises

by restaurantchain



Category: Batman and Harley Quinn (2017), Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), DCU (Comics), Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restaurantchain/pseuds/restaurantchain
Summary: Harley's hurt. Again.
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 7
Kudos: 112





	bruises

**Author's Note:**

> hey ik this is a pretty generic idea for a harlivy fic but bare with me I'm going thru smth-

He had hit her two times today. Two times too many. Ivy could see the pain in her eyes. She knew Harley was trying to distract her from it, grinning a splintering grin that must have ached.  
"Hey, Red," she smiled. Damn that smile. If only Harley was happy enough to mean it.   
“Hey, Harls,” Ivy managed, offering a halfhearted smile - a lifeline. The tension in Harley’s shoulders disappeared as she realised Ivy wasn’t going to ask her about what happened. After all, she already knew.  
She knew too well.  
Harley opened her mouth. "He didn't mean it like that…" she whimpered.  
“Harley...” Ivy was trying, trying so, so hard not to stare at the bruise. She was angry. Angrier each night. She knew that rage, that familiar sensation of bloodlust. She wanted the Joker’s head on a stick. She wanted to make him bleed, much more than Harley had.  
Ivy reached up and caressed her face, wiping her fingers along the blonde’s lips, red staining her skin. Harley was trembling. Ivy hadn’t noticed before, but she was, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Trembling like she was lost, like she was weak.  
She was at her most vulnerable now and all Ivy could get out was “You’re cold,” her voice croaking. “I’m gonna prepare you a shower okay?" Harley nodded and Ivy turned around to leave.   
"Red... wait..." It was that whimper again. The one Ivy could never resist. “Don’t leave..."   
Harley was hurting.  
Ivy turned around. She turned around and met Harley’s eyes. Those pale blue eyes. Those eyes that mirrored pain, those eyes that were still blinded from the abuse that he put her through. And Ivy was frozen, staring, anger and spite and a warm, sweet feeling curling in her stomach. That was Harley’s feeling, dedicated, somehow, to those beautiful eyes and the pain that festered there, glossy with tears, to the nights when she came here sobbing and screaming and laughing all at the same time, with only Ivy to keep her sane. They’d get lost in a bottle of vodka, waking up in the next morning to fall into a dream all over again.  
This was different, though. This was Harley’s waking nightmare, and she still thought she was living a daydream.   
Harley stood up and those brilliant blue eyes didn’t leave Ivy. She was pulled to her couch before knows it. She felt lips along her neck.  
“Get lost with me hon’…" There was a whisper, more kisses that shouldn’t have been hers, but they felt _so damn right._.  
“Help me forget...”  
And Ivy knew she should stay angry. She should stay outraged at that _maniac_ for hurting her Harley, then angry at herself for letting Harley walk away from her apartment thinking she’d change, then angry at Harley for not leaving him. Not long until Harley would show up in her living room and there would be no anger. Just regret, and pain. The vicious cycle would repeat. Day after day she’d see Harley hide empty bottles under her bed and bruises under her makeup. But she was tired of thoughts of anger and vengeance and spite. So she stayed, and she held Harley that night, just like every night she would stumble into her home. She held Harley for all she was worth. She held Harley to tell her there was a second chance. Because Ivy knew, her heart curling in on itself for the cruelty of it all, for all the poetic irony and the injustice and the pain, that she would be here to embrace her again and again, through nightmares and daydreams, forever and ever.

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to josie for editting this, thanks for being the best English nerd I've ever met.


End file.
